


How Could You

by padalelli



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon possession, Demons, F/M, Ghosts, Mild Angst, Smut, Vampires, Without comments I can't continue writing new chapters please comment if you like it, drunk sex (both parties), light cursing, season 8 AU, winchester gospel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-11-22 22:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padalelli/pseuds/padalelli
Summary: With Dean, it was rough and messy and needy. With Sam, it was soft and passionate andreal. At least, that's how it had felt in the beginning. Before you fucked everything up. Now Dean looked like the most optimistic outcome.





	1. A First Encounter

Usually, you were pretty territorial over your hunts. But honestly, if he hadn't come along, you really would have died. Most hunters that chased down the same hunt you did would claim that they saved your life, when in reality you usually saved theirs. You always know when to call someone out on their bullshit and when to accept their help. This was the time for you to accept help. That's why you weren't upset that he saved you. Not at him, at least. You were mostly upset with yourself, for needing someone to save you.  
And right now, since you were laying on the ground, just about bleeding out from a stab wound, you desperately needed someone to save you. After all, what was killing a nest of vampires worth if they killed you back? Shortly after you beheaded what you thought was the last one, another vamp took your machete and stabbed you in the side. You pulled it out and gave one last swipe, slicing across the vampire's neck, decapitating it, before you collapsed and fell to the ground. A few minutes later you heard footsteps. Cautious footsteps. Human footsteps, hunter's footsteps. "Help," you tried to gasp out, choking on your own blood. "Please," you whined. You doubted you were loud enough for whoever it was to hear you. "Help!" You began coughing, and your vision started to blur from the loss of blood.  
Suddenly, the footsteps got faster. They were running towards you. You heard the sound of a gun dropping to the ground- something all too familiar to you. Someone tried pulling you up off the ground, though you couldn't see who. But you did hear his voice. "Hey! Hey! Stay with me," he shouted desperately. His voice was rough, gravelly. Been through way too much. "No, hey, come on stay with me. You're gonna be okay." He wrapped something around your wound and then picked you up. You could feel he was going as fast as he could to bring you somewhere safe. "I'm gonna get you some help," he reassured you, his voice shaking as he ran.  
The next thing you know, you wake up in a cozy bedroom. One in a cabin, you guess. But you're hooked up to an IV, wearing an oversized tee shirt, and your side isn't so sore. You pull back the blanket over you to take a look at your wound. Someone had clearly stitched it up and dressed it properly. There wasn't any blood coming through, which you only assume is a good thing. Just then, you hear two sets of heavy footsteps coming your way. You quickly pull the blanket back over yourself and close your eyes. "Couldn't stop hunting, huh, Dean?" One of the men asks. It isn't the same man that saved you though. While the voice was similar in gruffness, it was older.  
"You know me, Bobby. Couldn't get out even if I tried," Dean says. Dean is your savior. It's the same voice, less desperate now that you aren't dying in a vampire nest.  
"Well, I think she'll be alright," Bobby says. "Now that we've got some blood back into her. She should be waking up soon." One of the men leaves the room, you guess it's Bobby.  
Then Dean approaches you. You feel a hand lift your wrist, you assumed to check that the IV is still in. You choose that moment to open your eyes. _Holy shit, this guy is way too handsome to be a hunter,_ you think when you see him. He's got a strong jawline, some stubble, dirty blondish-brown hair, and beautiful green eyes. "Hey," he says nervously.  
"Hi," you reply. You don't know what else to say.  
"I take it you're the one that took down that nest? You don't seem like the blood slave type," he says.  
You smile. "Yeah, I took it down. Before I almost died... You saved my life."  
"That's what we do. Save people. Isn't it?"  
"Yeah, I guess. Not supposed to let the monsters kill you, though."  
He snickers. "No, probably not," he replies. "You need to stay here for a few days while you heal up. Hope that's not a big deal."  
"No, you saved my life. I get that. I do need rest," you admit. "What's your name?" you ask. You know it's Dean, but you want to know his full name. Maybe he'll give it to you.  
"Dean Winchester," he tells you.  
"Sounds familiar," you say. "Like John Winchester?"  
"Yeah, you know him?"  
"No, but I know who he is. I'm [Y/N]. [Y/N][Y/L/N]."  
"Pleasure. Well, I'll let you get some rest. Just shout if you need anything," he says before leaving the room.  
~~~  
Your wound took a couple weeks to heal, all of which you spent in Bobby's cabin with him and Dean. They welcomed you like family- something nearly all hunters do when they come across one another.  
You still lay in bed when there's a knock on the door. "Come in," you call.  
Dean opens the door with one hand, holding his laptop in the other. "Hey, we uh, found a case a few hours away. Thought that maybe since you're mostly healed up you could come with, help out," he proposes.  
You smile. "Depends. What kind of case are we talking about?"  
"Simple salt and burn we think. You in?"  
You put down the book you were reading and get up off the bed. "Sure thing. When are we leaving?"  
Dean grins and closes his laptop. "Pack your bag, and we'll head out now," he tells you. He leaves the room while you shove what little you have into your backpack. You would have more, but your car had gotten torched back at the vampire nest sometime between the hunt and when Dean and Bobby tried to go back for it.  
When you go downstairs and see that Bobby's car is gone, your face sparks confusion. "Bobby not coming with?"  
"No, he's got some other business he's trying to take care of. But we can take down a ghost with two of us."  
"Well I mean, I'm sure either one of us could do it single-handed. So why do you want me to come?" you ask.  
"Guess I just don't like working alone... not really used to it," Dean answers.  
"You had a partner," you say.  
He nods. "My brother. But he's uh... out of the picture now. Just me."  
"Oh," you say quietly. "Well, then let's get to it." You follow him out to the Impala, settling in for the road trip.  
~~~  
Dean was right about the case being a ghost, but it was not at all a 'simple salt and burn'. More like a family of five vengeful spirits against two hunters. Sure you could take care of them, but when they outnumbered you and were actively teaming up against you, it was a little harder.  
So of course you were pissed at Dean for not realizing it was more than one ghost, especially since he wouldn't let you see the research because he 'had it all handled'.  
Plus, you got pretty roughed up in the fight, being flung around and what not. Once they were all taken care of, you gassed up the family farm and threw a match in it, telling Dean to step back. After you watched the flames grow in front of you for a few minutes, you turned around and walked away, towards the road.  
"Hey, where are you going?" Dean shouted.  
"Away from you. We don't make a good team," you reply.  
He jogs to catch up to you and grabs your wrist, which you immediately pull away from him. "Okay, I'm sorry," he says.  
"Dean, you may have saved my life two weeks ago, but because of you I almost just lost it again. You may not be able to work alone, but I can. I can do my job perfectly fine without your help." You could see he was fuming, clenching his fists and tightening his jaw. But you knew it wasn't you that he was mad at. So you turned around and walked away, traveling along the road until you got to the nearest town, to the nearest bar.  
You were about four drinks in when Dean sat on the freshly vacant bar stool beside yours. "I'm sorry-"  
"Save it," you interrupted. "I'm not here to talk to you. Or anyone. Especially not about hunting." With that, you downed another glass of whiskey and coke.  
Your motions and speech were both slurred, and Dean could tell. So he called the bartender over and began drinking with you. Didn't talk, he knew you didn't want to. He'd only had a couple of drinks when he decided it was time for you to stop. You weren't a lightweight by any means, no hunter is, but that didn't change the fact that you had a much smaller frame and you were drinking on an empty stomach. So he threw down some cash to pay your tab and helped you back to his car.  
Dean knew it was best for him to drive as little as possible, so he found the nearest motel and got a double room for the night. You needed the rest way more than he did. However, you were a stubborn one, and refused to go to sleep.  
Dean was stubborn too, so he pulled his own personal bottle of liquor out of his hunting bag and sat in the chair across from your bed. About an hour passed, and Dean had gone through almost half the bottle while the two of you stared angrily at each other. "You need rest," he said.  
"So do you. You're not my babysitter," you retorted. An hour hadn't been nearly enough time for the alcohol you had consumed to leave your system yet. And staring at Dean wasn't helping your 'beer goggles' one bit. You scooted down to the edge of your bed, sitting about two feet directly across from Dean.  
Dean would never admit it, but he was getting- if not already- drunk. What he would admit though was that he had a weak spot for women, and that he was especially riled up after a hunt gone not too great. You stared at each other for a good few minutes before he caved in to his drunkenness and pulled you in for a rough kiss. Of course, you being you, a hunter that would never find a real relationship and would take sex whenever you could, you kissed him back.  
Dean stood up and picked you up by your thighs, his lips never once leaving yours. And once you were on the bed beneath him it was over. You knew you shouldn't because you were drunk, but he was drunk too and you were both sexually frustrated as hell, so you didn't say anything. You didn't say anything when the clothes came off. You didn't say anything as he kissed and bit your neck, as he squeezed your ribs, wrapped your legs around him. You just gasped and moaned and pulled his hair and scratched his back as he pushed inside of you. The moment he removed his mouth from your neck, you pulled his face to yours and bit his lower lip, starting a war of teeth and tongues. His thrusts had begun slowly, but gradually got faster, never failing to hit every sweet spot you had. You could tell he was close because he stopped the battle for your mouths and just pressed his forehead against yours and breathed and god, he was hot. You chose that moment to clench around him, and that's how you pulled it out of him. As soon as he was undone, so were you, and suddenly you were both just a heaving pile of limbs and sweat.  
Being as drunk as you were, the two of you fell asleep almost instantly. But as soon as you woke up in the morning, you took a piss, took a shower, and took your things. The only thing you left behind was a note on the hotel paper that had your phone number and the words, _Don't call me unless it's an emergency._


	2. An Upsetting Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving Dean behind, you have some problems with a demon that leave you weak and scared. Somehow, Dean finds you- but he isn't alone.

About Three Years Later

You could hardly remember the past few months. That's why, as soon as you gained consciousness and you made sure you were in control of your body, your hunter instincts took over. You had woken up in some motel room, and you searched desperately for your hunting bag, to no avail. You couldn't even find your car keys. All you had on your person was your burner phone. Which was dead. You hoped maybe the charger was in the room too, and you finally got lucky when it was plugged into an outlet. Once you plugged your phone in, you scrolled through all of your contacts, searching for one in particular. Another stroke of luck, he answered the call. "Hello?"  
"I need help," you said, your voice shaky. "I'm stranded in some motel room, I don't have anything. I can't salt the place or make any devils traps or holy water-"  
"Wait, what happened?"  
"I don't know! Everything for the past however many months is a blur! I just... I need some help from another hunter," you weeped.  
"Okay. Where are you, do you know?"  
You shook your head, looking around the room for any sign of a location. You saw a picture on the wall of the 'Welcome to Vegas' sign and promptly opened the curtain to look out the window. Far off in the distance, you saw light pollution from where you could only assume was Las Vegas. Turning your head the other way, you caught a glimpse of the motel's sign. "I think I'm in a motel outside of Vegas. The Grenwick."  
"Sending someone your way," the hunter said before hanging up.  
Once you were off the phone, you stripped down and got in the shower. After washing your hair and body, you didn't have the energy to do much else but sit down in the tub, holding your knees to your chest, and you let the water run over you. You didn't know how much time passed before someone kicked the door in, but you didn't care.   
"[Y/N]?" A familiar voice asked from just outside the bathroom door. You slowly turned your head to see Dean Winchester. And when he saw that it was you, he rushed into the bathroom, shut the water off, and threw a towel over you. "What happened?" he asked quietly.   
"Demon," another voice said. He stepped forward into the doorframe and tilted his head towards your back. That's when Dean saw it. Your anti-possession tattoo had been sliced right down the middle. He could tell there were multiple cuts by the scarring where it had tried to heal just to be sliced over again. A demon had been possessing you for months, but because of the ink, had to repeatedly break the lock you had put on your body to secure it from evil spirits.  
That's when some of it came back to you. A sudden flash of the memory of getting attacked on a hunt, feeling the sting between your shoulder blades, but your attacker was careful not to stab you fatally. _Why would they do that?_   
"We need to get her out of here," the other man says.   
Dean nods and focuses on helping you, but all you can do is look at his face. He's aged. Not badly, but he looks far more than just three years older. And you had thought he'd seen some shit when you first met him. You can only imagine what a Winchester would see in three years. Three years is a long time for hunters, given that you all have a short life expectancy. Thirty is lucky, forty is pushing it, and no one ever lives to see fifty. Not in this life. Lots of monsters to hunt in three years.   
"[Y/N]!" Dean yells, you suspect it isn't the first time either. You hum in response. He's got you back into your clothes and he's strapping you into the car. "I need you to tell us everything," he says as he drives off.   
"Who's he?" you ask groggily.   
"I'm Sam-" the other man begins to say.  
"I'll explain later," Dean interrupts.   
"Where are we going?" you continue asking questions.  
"Somewhere safe. Tell us what you know," Dean replies.   
"Dean, I don't know anything. The last thing I remember is from October. I was hunting something, I guess it turned out to be a demon, and it attacked me and cut my tattoo. That's all I know."  
"Oh [Y/N]..." Dean says.  
"What?" you ask.   
"It's February..." Sam tells you.  
"Please tell me it's 2013 not 2014," you say, fearful.  
"It's 2013. But that still leaves you with about four unaccounted for months," Dean points out.   
"Yeah, I realize that," you spit.  
You figure Dean doesn't have anything else to say because he simply remained silent after that. After a few quiet minutes pass, you begin to talk to the other man, Sam. "So your name is Sam?" you ask to confirm.  
"Yeah," he nods. "Sam Winchester."  
You pause, confused. _Dean said his brother was gone. So why?_ "You're Dean's brother?"   
"What, he didn't say anything about me?" Sam asks surprisedly.   
"All he said... was that he used to have a partner, his brother, and that he was out of the picture..." you told Sam. You could almost hear Dean cringe at the sound of you talking about him as if he weren't there.   
"Dean, was this after-"  
"Yeah. I told you I couldn't stop hunting," he says gruffly.   
"After what?" you prod.   
Sam seems to decide maybe there was a reason Dean hadn't told you everything, because he then says, "Tell you later. It's complicated."  
"I'm a hunter, I eat complicated for breakfast," you sass. Sam chuckles, but your ride continues in silence. Until you reach your destination.   
Dean insists on helping you walk inside, and you don't want to argue, so you just let him. It's a bunker. A huge bunker- a hunter's heaven you find out. The brothers didn't tell you much, but they did tell you about this. The Men of Letters, the key their grandfather gave them. You were certain even that wasn't the full story, but it was enough.   
Once you get to your new room, Dean helps you into the bed and closes the door. "What happened?" he asks confrontationally.   
You groan. "I told you!"   
"No, not about that. Three years ago, what happened?" He wanted answers and you had none to give.   
"What do you mean what happened?" you ask, not sure what he wanted you to say.   
"Well I mean, I know what _happened_ but... what happened? Why'd you leave? In like, one of the most cliche ways possible, might I add."  
"Well, I left because we didn't make good hunting partners and I work alone and I thought you could find someone else. You're the one that followed me. So I had to leave when you couldn't follow me," you explain.   
"So you just slept with me so that you could sneak out in the morning when I wouldn't follow you?" he asks.   
"I guess?" you ask. Dean looks offended and it's only mildly funny. "Look, you're the one that brought me to a motel room and kissed me when you knew I had lower inhibitions. I didn't have to have sex with you."  
"Oh," he steps away from the door and stands closer to the bed where you're laying. "So you just... _wanted_ to have sex with me?"  
"Oh my god, Dean. Wow, you really just- wow. Just leave. I'm not having this conversation with you." Really? How old is he? He's practically baiting you for slut shaming.   
He does look genuinely disappointed in himself for making you want to kick him out though. "Okay. Sorry." He gets off the bed and leaves, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment if you want more, otherwise this will just become another unfinished series.


	3. Getting Acquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a night of hearing about the Winchester Gospel from Sam, you have breakfast with the boys. But you learn more about Dean than you do Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a tad longer to write! Sorry!

Dean had been gone a couple of hours when you heard a knock on your door. "Dean, the last thing I wanna do is talk to you," you called.  
Then the door opened. "I understand that, but I'm not Dean," Sam said.  
"Oh, hey. Sorry. He just said something earlier that made me mad," you told Sam.  
"Yeah, he does that sometimes. Trust me, I know."  
"I'm sure you do. Why did he tell me you were gone?" you asked.  
"Because I was." Sam pulled out the desk chair on the other side of the room and brought it by the bed so he could sit down.  
"What do you mean?" It looked like he was trying to decide whether or not to tell you. "Sam, I'm a hunter. You can't tell me anything I won't believe."  
"I was in Hell. In Lucifer's cage. That's the short version," he said.  
"You were Lucifer's vessel."  
"So you know about the apocalypse?"  
"A little. Hunters talk. I know that the seals were broken and Lucifer was searching for his vessel, but that he wouldn't say yes. So Dean was Michael's vessel I take it?"  
"Yeah," Sam told you. "But I said yes. Dean didn't."  
"Why?"  
"So that I could take Lucifer to the cage-"  
"No, I know why you said yes. Why didn't Dean?" you interrupted. You fully understood why a hunter would say yes. It was the only way to control an archangel, the only power you could've hoped to hold over them.  
Sam seemed to be shocked that you understood one side but not the other. "I guess it just... wasn't necessary. Dean said no, so Michael found someone else- while Lucifer persisted with me."  
You nodded. "So how'd you get out?" you asked.  
"Friend pulled me out. Angel friend." Sam sighed. "Not all of me, though. My soul got stuck in the cage. So until we got that out, I was without a soul for about a year."  
"What was that like?"  
"I don't remember too much. Just that I wasn't myself."  
"So what's happened to you and Dean since then?"  
"Well, after I went down and came back, Dean was on his own for a year while I was soulless. I'm guessing that's when you two worked together. Then a job brought us together again, and at first I didn't tell Dean about my soul. Some crazy shit went down, and when I got my soul back I got sent to an asylum- call it PTSD from the pit. Once I got better, we kept hunting. Leviathan. Dean got sent to Purgatory-"  
"Purgatory? How?"  
"He was too close when we killed the head honcho of the Levis."  
"How long was he there?" you asked, a concerned tone in your voice. No wonder his eyes had aged so much.  
"Bout a year," was all Sam said.  
"Oh my god..." Now you regretted the way you had spoken to Dean earlier. He was just trying to be humorous and you kicked him out.  
"Yeah. I don't really remember how he got out exactly, but he's back now. That's what matters." You looked into Sam's eyes and you could tell that he knew exactly how Dean got back, he just didn't like to think about it. "I'm just worried about losing him again now."  
"Again? Why? What's going on?" you prodded.  
"He's doing God's trials."  
"God's trials?"  
"Yeah. There's this demon tablet, and a prophet, a friend of ours. He translated it to find out that we can close the gates of Hell by completing a series of trials. And Dean's already done the first one. And he's fixated on doing the rest, even though they could kill him," Sam explained.  
You weren't sure what to say. Sure, any hunter would be willing to risk their lives if it meant locking demons in Hell forever in theory, but in practice... "Wh... he..." you stuttered. You forced yourself to collect your thoughts. "How can I help?" you finally said after a while.  
Sam smiled half heartedly. "I don't really know. Knock some sense into him? Seems like you're good at that."  
"I'm not. I mean, he saved my life three years ago, but... we don't make a good team. One hunt together was enough to say that much," you told Sam. "But... honestly, I wouldn't mind staying here with you guys. A little PTSD, you know? Even for a hunter..."  
"Hey, you're family. You can stay as long as you want or need. We'll help you figure out what happened to you. Okay?" Sam reached his hand out and placed it over the covers on your knee. Something about it actually comforted you.  
"Thanks," you told him.  
"No problem," he replied before getting up and leaving.  
~~~  
After the first good night's sleep you remembered having, you woke up and wandered the bunker, eventually finding your way to the library. You had your arms crossed and you slowly approached Sam as he sat at one of the tables reading some book. "Hey, do you think you can remember the name of the demon that possessed you?" he asked.  
"Not off the top of my head, no. Maybe if I tried really hard, but even then, it might take me a while," you replied.  
"Understandable. Well, I'm reading up on how to potentially summon the demon that possessed you, so maybe we can get some answers."  
Your body clenches up at the idea of encountering the demon again. Obviously, the demon had wanted to target you specifically, seeing as it hadn't killed you. It just wanted to control you and hurt you and send your little hunter self on your merry way, but why? Why you? What was their end game, their message? These were the kinds of questions Sam must've intended to get the answers for if you could get your hands on the demon. "Mhm. Do you think I could maybe get something to eat? I'm starving."  
"Of course you're starving, you haven't eaten since we picked you up. What do you like?"  
"I mean, I like just about anything. I'm mostly used to burgers from fast food joints, but I'll eat almost anything you put in front of me," you told him.  
"Almost?"  
"Not pickles. They ruin everything. Like, you can take the pickles off something and it'll still taste like a pickle. I hate it. It's a cucumber's evil cousin." That got a laugh out of Sam.  
"Fair enough," he said, smiling. He got up and gestured for you to follow him to the kitchen. "Well, I make a mean omelet."  
"Is that so?" you asked, sitting down on a bar stool across from him.  
"It is indeed, but Dean makes a mean pancake," Sam admitted.  
"Mmm. Well, I'm more of an omelet girl myself, personally."  
"Oh, really?" Sam asked, surprised.  
"Pancakes are overrated. And really dense, mostly with sugar," you explained.  
"Well, omelets it is. What do you like in your omelet?" Sam started getting the dishes he would need.  
"What do you think is best?" This conversation with him was making you feel so much better. It got your mind off of all the heavy things.  
"Personally- spinach, feta, and tomato."  
"Wow. I was thinking more along the lines of bacon, cheddar, and potato hash. You're a health nut, aren't you?"  
Sam laughed and went to the fridge. "That's what Dean says. Tell you what, how bout I make omelets with all the ingredients we both like?" He set down everything you both listed on the counter.  
"I don't know... sounds like a weird combination to me."  
"That's what makes it fun." He winked before cracking the eggs into a bowl and stirring them.  
"Alright then. But when these omelets taste weird I'm blaming you."  
Dean walked in about fifteen minutes later and you and Sam were at the kitchen table arguing about the omelets, but in a good way. "These are actually pretty good," Sam said. "Who knew potato hash would bring everything together."  
"I told you. The only thing that throws this omelet off is the feta. Clashes with the cheddar," you replied.  
"Are you kidding me? The cheddar clashes with the feta," Sam argued.  
"Morning," Dean interrupted. "What, no breakfast for me?"  
You turned to see Dean coming through the doorway of the kitchen, making his way to the table where you and Sam sat. "We thought you'd prefer your famous pancakes," Sam told him.  
Dean glanced down at the little pieces of omelet left on your plate. "Yeah, no you're right. Those omelets look nasty."  
You and Sam chuckled. As Dean started pulling things out to make his pancakes, Sam finished up his breakfast and got up from the table. "I'm gonna get back to research."  
"See you later," you said as Sam left.  
Dean glanced back and forth between you and Sam. "Something going on?" he asked.  
You were confused, unsure of what he meant by that. "What?"  
He contemplated what he was about to say for a moment before telling you, "Never mind."  
"No, Dean, tell me," you insist.  
"Nothing, it was stupid, okay? End of discussion."  
"You'd only say that if you were jealous- are you jealous?" Part of you enjoyed taunting him.  
"What would I be jealous of?"  
"Me and Sam having breakfast omelets together." You smiled. This was really entertaining you.  
"Shut up."  
"What's really going on, Dean?" you asked in a serious tone.  
"I'm just trying to figure this out, okay?"  
"Figure what out?"  
"You. What... what happened to you. With the demon." As soon as he said it you knew that wasn't what he really wanted to say. He really wanted to figure out what happened after you slept with him, after you left.  
"Dean... you already know why I left. We didn't make a good team, and I didn't want you following me," you told him outright.  
"That's not what I said."  
"I know it's not what you said, but it's what you wanted to say."  
"I had just wanted to help," he admitted.  
"And you did. You saved my life then, and you saved my life now. But that doesn't give you any kind of ownership over me. I can still take care of myself."  
"I know you can. I just... thought you could be family. Not me owning you."  
You weren't sure what to say to that, so you left him to his pancakes and went back to your room.


	4. If Only We Could Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The voice in the back of the your head spends a lot of time speaking up. Fear keeps you trapped inside the bunker, and your understanding nature puts you in a complicated place with Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been updating less and less frequently. Comments are what keeps me writing.

You weren't quite sure what to do with yourself. You felt awkward talking to Dean, as it always ended with one of you leaving the room in silence. You didn't want to bother Sam, he was trying to help you. And you clearly weren't accustomed to researching the way he was. Not in this type of place, at least. Sure you had all the knowledge at your fingertips, but you couldn't even imagine where to begin looking. Or what you were even looking for.  
You wished you could go outside and wander around the place, but you were too afraid of putting yourself in danger. Instead you took it upon yourself to explore the bunker, eventually making your way to its garage full of beautifully maintained antique cars and motorcycles. "Holy shit," you whispered to yourself. You probably marveled at the automobiles for quite some time, you just couldn't seem to draw yourself away from the garage. It felt weird to just go in, gawk, and then leave.  
At some point, you found yourself sitting in one of the older cars, a black oldsmobile-looking one, behind the wheel, fantasizing about what it would've been like to live in the forties and be in a gang with real gentlemen. It was something you fantasized about often, an idea you couldn't get out of your head. You would've killed to live in that glamorous time.  
When you finally decided to get out of the car and leave the garage to adventure more, your body froze when you saw him standing in the doorway. He had his arms crossed and he was leaning against the doorframe, but when you made eye contact he began walking towards you coolly, his long arms swinging at his sides as he sauntered over to you. "Wouldn't have expected you to be into oldies cars," Sam said, his lips halfway turned up into a smile.  
"You weren't supposed to see that," you told him, your body still tensed up with embarrassment.  
He chuckled. "It's okay, no judgement. I've seen Dean ogle at plenty of muscle cars over the years. Honestly, it's kind of cute you picked this one to obsess over."  
"Oh it's cute now, is it?" you teased him. _No, don't do that, don't flirt with him. You already fucked Dean and that was a big mistake,_ your instincts told you.  
You saw the blush rise in his cheeks, but he tried to play it cool. "Sure," he said. "I mean, just look at the car."  
"Mhm. Now I feel like you're just insulting my taste in cars but you used the word cute so I wouldn't get offended," you gave him a hard time. _STOP FLIRTING,_ your brain shouted. You desperately wanted to listen, but it was too easy with Sam.  
Sam thought before he spoke. "No, I really do think it's cute," he said. You then understood why he thought before he spoke. "Hey, I really need a break from research and other hunting related things- what do you say we go out to a bar tonight, have a little fun?" he asked a few moments later, after much hesitation.  
Now it was your turn to blush. "I mean... would it be safe? For me? After the whole demonic possession thing... I just... I don't want to take any risks..."  
The change in Sam's facial expression from excitement to the realization that you were right broke your heart. "No. No, you're right. I can't believe I didn't think of that. Stupid of me to ask."  
When he walked away, you caught up to him and placed your hand on his arm- _oh my god, his muscles,_ your thoughts interrupted. "Sam? Another time? Soon, I hope," you told him.  
His happiness returned. "Just tell me when," he said.  
Sam walked with you back to your room, understanding that you still needed rest from your three month ride along in your own body. He assured you that you could talk to him whenever, about whatever, before turning around to head back to the library. When you saw that your door was closed, you were a little confused, since you left it open, but figured it wasn't a big deal. That was, until you opened it to see Dean sitting on your bed. He looked torn apart, honestly he looked like he was dying. But it was bigger than you, it didn't even have anything to do with you. According to Sam, he was dying, the trials would kill him. You thought nothing of Dean's presence, thinking maybe he wanted to apologize or just wanted someone to talk to about what he was going through. You completely understood that he wouldn't want to talk to Sam because Sam would only try to talk him out of finishing the trials. After all, you hadn't left Dean because you didn't like the guy, or you didn't get along. You just didn't work well together on hunts. And you were okay with accepting that, you had no problem being a friend. You just didn't want commitment. That's what scared you about how easy things were with Sam.  
And that's why, once you got inside and closed the door, you didn't stop Dean. He stood up from the bed, came over to you, and just wrapped his arms around you and dropped his weight against you and buried his head in your shoulder. You simply embraced him in return and let him relax against you, let him lean on you. He wasn't crying, he was just tired. Nothing about it confused you. You just accepted it.  
Until Dean turned his head into you and started kissing your neck. "Dean," you said, trying to catch his attention, thinking maybe he was in a trance of some sort. But he didn't stop. "Dean, what're you doing," you said softly, but if you were being honest with yourself you weren't even trying to get him off of you. It felt too good, too intimate, and after everything you'd been through recently, intimacy was what you were craving most. You finally brought yourself to release your arms from around him and place them on his chest, but by then he had started nibbling your ear. "Dean, please," you said, intending it very differently than he took it.  
"Please what," he murmured right into your ear. The way he said it turned you on like no other, but you knew this needed to stop. You just didn't want to stop it yourself.  
"We shouldn't," you tried to make an excuse.  
That's when he pulled away- but only a little, just enough to look you in the eye. "Why not?" He still held you in his arms.  
"I don't think... that we... feel the same way... about each other... I think that the last time we slept together was a mistake. And I don't want to make another mistake..." you struggled to get the words out.  
His arms fell to his sides. "So that's all I am to you? A mistake?" Dean asked, clearly hurt.  
"No, Dean. You're not a mistake at all. You're my friend- my savior, honestly. I could never regret meeting you or having you in my life. But we were drunk... and frustrated with each other... and we had to blow off steam. Dean, I really wish it hadn't happened the way it did. I hope you can understand that."  
"I understand that that's how you feel. And I respect that, but I don't feel the same way."  
"I don't... What do you mean?" _This can't be good,_ the voice in the back of your head told you.  
Dean sighed frustratedly and balled his hands into fists. He glanced down before stepping forward and taking your face in his hands, pulling you in for a kiss. Not rough like the last time, but still needy. Either way, it was not the way he had kissed you the last time. It was different, and you couldn't quite put your finger on what made it feel sweeter. When he pulled away after what felt like hours, he said, "Don't tell me that didn't feel real to you."  
"Even if it did, it doesn't matter," you muttered.  
"Why not? Hm?" he asked. You could tell that even though he was trying to be patient he was upset.  
"Because you're going to die doing these trials. And I'll lose you. I'd rather lose a friend than a..." you couldn't even say it.  
"I have to finish what I started."  
"I can't be with you knowing you're practically going to kill yourself, Dean. I can't do this unless you give up the trials."  
"I can't do that. You know I can't." Dean wouldn't budge and you knew it.  
"Well, Dean, you know I can't do this," you gestured between the two of you. "I just can't."  
"You sure about that?" he asked in a low voice.  
Of course he would make you doubt yourself. So you kissed him one last time. Even though it was a nice, tender kiss, you knew there was no spark for you. "Yes. I'm sure," you said. Dean nodded and walked toward the door. "Please don't be angry with me, Dean," you told him.  
He'd had his hand on the doorknob. "I'm not angry, [Y/N]," he said without turning to look at you. Then he just left.  
Left you alone to have time with your thoughts. That was a bad thing, seeing as all you could think about was that you were a terrible person. But would've sleeping with him again made you even more terrible? Especially when you regretted doing it in the first place? Especially when you thought you might be starting to like Sam... _Now might just be a good time to go to sleep or something..._ you thought.  
But you couldn't go to sleep. And you couldn't force yourself to feel the way about Dean he felt about you. You knew he wasn't a sensitive guy. That's why you were convinced the only reason he latched onto you was because he was secretly afraid of dying and he just didn't want to admit it. It was the only explanation. If Sam had been doing the trials he wouldn't have cared, he would've been focusing on his brother, and he probably would've sent you on your way by now. Because you recognized that, you couldn't bring yourself to feel a certain way towards him. You were just neutral. Willing to help, but not attached. And somehow, right now, that made you a terrible person. And you would continue to be a terrible person, at least to Dean, until he was done with the trials- whether he finished them or not.


	5. Fun Times In Lebanon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night out with Sam leaves you dazed and confused about the Winchester brothers. The voice in your head turns out not to be just any conscience. The boys get stuck between a rock and a hard place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like this chapter! I can't keep writing unless I get comments!

About a week passed with you at the bunker. Sometimes it was awkward, especially with Dean. You generally tried to either rest or help Sam research. You still couldn't think of the name of the demon that possessed you. Not fully at least, but the letter L was getting some gears going. What you and Sam were mostly concerned about was finding a spell to summon him and get some answers. You were trying to keep an eye on your tattoo, hoping it would heal quickly. At the very least, you knew you were safe in the bunker.  
"Sam, how long have we been in here?" you prompted. At this point you were sharing a table in the library surrounded by spell books and demon history.  
Sam checked his watch. "Bout four hours. Why?" Dean had to have been asleep by now. He'd been sleeping a lot since the second trial- which he completed three days ago.  
"I'm sure you know as well as I do that I'm getting sick of manual control F mode. Can we just pause for a bit?" you asked.  
Sam shut several books after marking his place in each one. "Course. What do you want to do?"  
This was a pretty regular routine you'd gotten into. You would research for hours, then when you were ready to stop for the night, you'd tell Sam it was time to stop too. Sometimes you'd just go to your rooms and go to sleep, other times you'd sit and watch a movie together. This time you were tired of being tired. You wanted to go out. You wanted to take Sam up on the offer to go out and have fun at a bar. "Can I take you up on that raincheck?" you asked, hoping he would remember.  
He snickered and smiled, so you took it as a yes. "Let's go," he said.  
You followed him out to the garage where his Charger was parked and climbed into the passenger seat. "Nowhere crowded. I want a classic, low key place. Pool tables, darts, all that good stuff," you told him as he pulled out onto the main road.  
"I know just the place," he said happily. And you could tell he was genuinely happy. For all the shit you knew he had seen, it meant a lot that you could make him feel that way.  
Your night at the bar with Sam consisted of just that. He took you somewhere with pool and darts, which you engaged in upon first arriving at the bar. Then once you'd had a couple drinks, you sat down in a booth and talked, trying to keep the conversation light. After a couple more drinks, you decided to order food and get a meal in your stomach before heading back to the bunker- trying to avoid any really heavy drinking. You were somewhat tipsy, but since Sam was so much larger than you, he was fine to drive back. Your slight intoxication did make for a fun ride back of you singing classic rock songs really loudly and off-key. You could see Sam cringing, but he was also smiling and laughing at you the whole time. By the time you had arrived back at the bunker, you had sung the rest of the alcohol out of your system, but still couldn't help laughing at yourself.  
After Sam turned off the car, he came around to open the door for you and help you out, the gentleman that he was. "I hope you had as much fun as I did tonight," he said, the two of you still standing by the car. "I hardly ever get nights like that."  
You smiled. "Me neither. Just part of being a hunter. At least for me, ever since the Roadhouse."  
"Yeah..." Sam wasn't too surprised you were part of the Roadhouse network- almost every hunter that had been around then was. He tried not to think of the bittersweet memory of the Harvelle women. "Anyway, I'm glad I got to take you out. I mean, on the town. Just let me know if you ever want to go another time."  
"Yeah, I will."  
The two of you gazed silently at each other for a few moments before Sam started to lean down. He seemed to pause about three quarters of the way in, in case you wanted an out. But you didn't move an inch. Soon enough, his lips were on yours, and you couldn't deny that you felt real chemistry. Not quite fireworks level yet, but definitely sparks. You leaned up on your tiptoes to get closer, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into an embrace. It felt like something you'd always fantasized about but knew you'd never get. It was magical- well, the most magical a first kiss with someone could get. Sam placed his hands on your hips, pulling away from you after some time. His expression was dazed, but in the best way. "Maybe it's time to turn in," he murmured.  
"Yeah," you replied, and you couldn't help the grin on your face.  
"I'll, uh, walk you to your room," he said, trying to gain the normal husk in his tone back.  
The walk to your room was mostly quiet, but in a comfortable way. Once you reached your destination, you turned around to look at Sam. "Goodnight Sam," you told him, your lips half curled up in a smile.  
"Goodnight, [Y/N]," he said, and you could tell he was holding back his own smile.  
Just before you turned to open your door, both you and Sam leaned in at the same time to steal another quick kiss. Which became not-so-quick and lasted several seconds. You had to restrain yourself from placing your hands in his hair and holding him practically lip-hostage. You could tell he was doing the same, though. "Ok, night," you said, forcing yourself to pull away and get inside your room before too much else.  
Once in your room you leaned back against the door and sighed. You were kind of mad at yourself for feeling so giddy like you were in some kind of Nicolas Sparks movie. You quickly got over yourself and got ready for bed, climbing in and going to sleep as soon as you could.  
~~~  
_Sam's head dipped between your legs and he ran his tongue over your folds. Goddamn, that felt good. Where did he get this kind of expertise? You moaned and writhed on the bed, but suddenly he stopped. You lifted your head to look down at him, but when you did it was no longer Sam. Instead you saw Dean, smiling up at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked. You squirmed away from him-_  
And that's when you woke up. Alone. In your own room. At- you checked the clock on your bedside table- four in the morning. Great. _No, I can't be having wet dreams about both of them_ , you told yourself. But if you were completely honest, you probably shouldn't even be having wet dreams about one of them. Hunting was not a life that allowed for romantic relationships. Let alone with the Winchesters.  
You tried to go back to sleep, but to no avail. And you knew that no matter how hard you tried, you wouldn't be able to. Not after that dream. So you got up and walked the halls of the bunker, coming upon a file room. You wondered why they would need a separate file room when they had an entire library. Being the snoopy hunter you were, you ventured inside to look around, scanning the labels on the boxes lined up on the shelves. When you reached the back of the room, the metal shelves weren't completely straight in the center, they were angled in to each other. _That's odd..._ When you tried to pull them forward, they just settled back into their place. Instead, you pushed them, discovering that they were secret doors to some other room- you couldn't see what it was. Just pitch black. At least, it was pitch black until you stepped inside. Your motion set off the lights, illuminating the room. Not just any practical room, however. It was a dungeon. There was a devil's trap cemented into the concrete, and a chair at the very center- designed to keep someone trapped. Essentially a torture chamber for any supernatural being.  
You immediately turned around to leave, but couldn't get out of the circle. It was as if an invisible wall was keeping you from escaping.  
"No..." you said out loud. "No. No. No... SAM! DEAN!" you screamed desperately, hoping they could hear you. "SAM! DEAN!" you screamed over and over again until your voice began to weaken and you fell to the ground. Luckily, you heard footsteps running towards you. "SAM! DEAN!" you yelled one last time so they could find you.  
Once they entered the room and saw you, they dropped their guns. "It's not what it looks like," Sam began to say.  
"It's not that... I can't get out," you whimpered, beginning to cry. "He's still inside me..."  
At that moment, the boys knew. The demon had never let you go. He had taken a joyride in your meat suit for months, only letting you take control again when you had been locked away so long you didn't know what was going on. And you led him right to the Winchesters. Right to their safe house. Dean and Sam shared a look, not knowing what to say or do.  
That's when you started laughing. "You know, it was hard to find this one," your body said. But it wasn't you. It was Lido. The demon that rode you. "But as soon as I realized she had a connection to a Winchester, I knew I could actually use her. Guess I should've paid more attention- I mean, look where I am now. Point Winchester."  
"Which one are you?" Sam asked angrily.  
"The name's Lido, kid. Not that it matters. I mean I only know everything about your safe house. Got plenty of time before I'm going anywhere. Maybe I'll share it with a friend or two."  
"Or we could just exorcise you right now and send you back to Hell, you son of a bitch," Dean spat.  
"Go ahead. Try," Lido said matter-of-factly.  
Sam could tell Dean was about to begin running his mouth, so he placed an arm in front of him, signaling he better not. "And why wouldn't we?" Sam asked.  
"Well, I came across a lovely little spell. Probably nothing you'd be familiar with. It's not a bonding spell, so much as a... cuffing spell. You send me back to Hell, her soul comes with me. And I don't think you're willing to sacrifice this pretty little one for little ole me, are you boys?" Sam and Dean said nothing- they had nothing to say. "Especially not you, Dean, I mean after what happened between you and [Y/N] three years ago." _No please, don't!_ You pleaded Lido. Your meatsuit laughed, as if to ask why he shouldn't. _Please, don't, you've already tortured me enough._  
"What's so funny to you, huh?" Sam asked.  
"Can't say. She doesn't want me to," Lido said. "But nothing is stopping Dean from sharing with the rest of the class." _Please, stop this,_ you begged from inside.  
"Dean, what's he talking about?" Sam asked, and you could hear in his voice that he was afraid to know the answer.  
"Go on Dean, tell your brother about what happened after the job you worked with [Y/N]."  
"I don't have to listen to you," Dean spat angrily. "Now you let her go."  
"Or what? You'll kill me with your demon blade? You'll kill her, too. Can't exorcise me. Nope, you don't thing she belongs in Hell. Can't torture me- you'll only be carving into this meatsuit. So what'll it be? Hm?"


	6. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys argue over the best way to deal with the demon possessing you. You argue with yourself about Sam and Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot emphasize enough that this story will not get finished unless I get comments on new chapters. I need to know people are reading it in order to finish it.

_What feels like hours to you pass in silence, with you trapped in your own body. Until Lido finally speaks up for you._  
“Oh, if you boys could hear her. Begging… screaming to get control back. Honestly, it’s getting kind of annoying. Maybe I should send her to Hell myself.”  
“Fine. We’ll play your game. What do you want?” Dean asked.  
“I think you can guess. Those trials you’re doing- to slam us all into Hell. To lock the doors and throw away the key. I’m going to need you to stop them. And I’m going to need proof before I go anywhere.”  
“Yeah, right. Good luck doing anything without your little demon magic-”  
“Dean, maybe he’s right. Maybe we should just let it go,” Sam interrupted him.   
“I’m not letting anything go until we get [Y/N] back,” Dean said through his teeth.   
“Well then, I’ll just hand over the wheel to her and maybe she can convince you,” Lido said.   
Suddenly you were you again, but you could feel Lido in the back of your mind. “Dean, Sam, please, just listen to him. There will be another chance-” but suddenly you felt crippling pain shoot down your spine, sending you to the ground crying out in pain. “He can still hurt me in here, with the linking spell,” you choked out. “Please, please, Dean let it go please,” you whined in pain. Lido was doing this to you and you were too weak not to beg in his favor.   
Both of the Winchesters cringed at the sight of you being tortured from the inside. But of course, Dean wouldn’t give in. Sam took the initiative. “Okay, okay, stop!” he yelled. Sam pulled a knife from his jacket and grabbed Dean’s nondominant hand, cutting a slice across his forearm.   
“Sam, no!” Dean yelled, grunting in the mild pain from the cut.   
“What, you don’t think saving an innocent person is more important?!” Sam yelled angrily. “We will find another way!”   
You and Lido watched as the aura of the trials slipped out of Dean and disappeared. That’s when Lido took over again. “Why, I didn’t think it would be that easy,” he said, chuckling maniacally. “Now, sweet boys, if you’ll just let me out of this Devil’s trap I’ll be on my way.”  
“No. Not until you reverse the linking spell,” Sam said. He didn’t want Dean to talk, didn’t want him to say anything. He didn’t know why he was surprised Dean wasn’t willing to give up the trials, he was just angry.   
Lido sighed. “Fine.” Some Enochian words came out of your mouth, and suddenly you felt like a separate entity from Lido. You knew he was there without Lido giving you permission to know he was there. “Unlinked. Promise. On Lucifer.”  
That’s when Dean started reciting an exorcism as quickly as he could. Sam panicked, thinking Lido hadn’t told the truth about releasing the link, but before he could do anything to stop Dean, it was over. A black cloud exited your body, and you slumped over. “God dammit, Dean,” Sam muttered angrily as he rushed over to you, picking you back up. He placed two fingers on your neck, trying to feel for a pulse. A sigh of relief escaped him when he felt it. You were still you, still alive.   
“What?” Dean asked.   
“Dean, what if the demon had been lying? You would’ve just signed her permission slip into Hell,” Sam spat.   
“Yeah, well, he wasn’t.”  
“You of all people, should know that demons lie,” Sam said.   
“And you of all people should know that we do whatever it takes to stop them,” Dean replied.   
“Even if it meant sending an innocent person to Hell? Dean, she never did anything. The demon just chose her and happened to get lucky.”  
“Yeah, well, that demon’s luck almost burnt this bunker to the ground just now. So you tell me that one person is more important than everything we’ve ever worked for to protect humankind.”  
You began to wake up, finally in control and alone in your own body. “Is he gone?” you croaked out.   
Sam looked at you, pushing your hair out of your face. “Yeah. He’s gone. For good this time.” Sam picked you up and carried you out of the dungeon and back to your room, placing you in bed.   
“I’m sorry, Sam,” you whispered.   
“Shhh, don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just get some rest.”   
“Not about Lido… about Dean,” you told him.   
“You don’t need to be sorry about him, okay? Please, just get some rest.” He started to get up to leave, but you grabbed his wrist.   
“Don’t go,” you pleaded. “I don’t wanna be alone…” You also didn’t want him asking Dean what Lido was talking about back in the dungeon. You didn’t want Dean telling on you. If anything, you had to do it. “Please stay with me, Sam…”  
Sam looked down at his feet, deliberating. After a few moments he looked back over at you and cracked an almost-smile. “Okay.”   
You smiled softly back at him and he kicked off his shoes before sitting in the bed next to you. He seemed a little caught off guard when you snuggled up to him, placing your head on his chest and curling up close. He gingerly wrapped his arm around you, protecting you. Things were quiet for a good long while, and you figured Sam probably thought you were asleep.   
“Hey Sam?” you asked softly.   
“Hm?” he somewhat grunted in response.   
“Was last night a date?” you prompted.   
He was silent for a few moments. “Did you want it to be?” he replied.   
“I guess I wouldn’t mind if it was… what about you?”  
More silence. “I think I wanted it to be. I just don’t know if hunters even go on dates. Relationships are kind of tricky in this life, you know?”  
You sighed. “Believe me, I know. I’ve seen it work out before, though.”  
“Me too. In a ride together, die together kind of way.”  
“At least they were happy…” you trailed off, looking up at Sam as you did. His gaze met yours and he placed his hand under your chin, pulling your face to his to kiss you. The kiss turned intimate very quickly, and you pulled yourself up to be closer to him, twisting your hand in his hair. “Sam, I think I really like you,” you murmured.   
“I know I really like you,” he said back, leaning in to continue kissing you.   
You knew what was about to happen, and you knew you should tell Sam before it did. At least, that’s what your conscience told you. But why would you listen? No, that would be too easy. Too complicated. Contradicting. So when Sam rolled his body on top of yours, you smiled and embraced it. Because this, this made you happy. And you knew that telling him you slept with his brother wouldn’t. Besides, Dean was just a one night stand you abandoned in a motel more than three years ago. What you had with Sam wasn’t even close to that.   
You deepened your kiss with Sam, keeping tongue to a tasteful minimum. His hands traced your body, like he was trying to memorize it, like he wanted to keep it forever. You ran your hands up under his shirt, holding onto the bare skin of his back, scratching at it when he squeezed your hips. His lips left yours and trailed down your neck, soft and slow. You moaned his name breathily and he brought his face back up to meet yours. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t-” he began to say.   
“Want to do this with you?” you finished his sentence. He nodded. You smiled and held his face in your hands. “I do. If you promise me one thing,” you said.   
“What’s that?” he murmured.   
“That this is real… that it’ll last past tonight… you’re not just using me…” _That this is nothing like what I did to Dean,_ you subconsciously thought.   
“I promise,” he whispered, leaning into your hand and kissing it. “And if I break that promise you have every right to hunt me like the monsters we kill.” He pressed his forehead to yours.   
You pressed your lips to his and began to take Sam’s shirt off when there was a knock on the door. _Goddammit Dean._ “I got it,” you whispered. Sam quietly got off of you and moved out of sight while you answered the door. “Dean, I’m trying to sleep. It’s been a long night,” you told him gently.   
“I know… and I know you must be pissed at me, and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” he said gruffly.   
“You’re right. I am pissed at you. Lido could’ve killed me from the inside back there and you didn’t even seem to care. So no, I’m not going to accept your apology. I was trying to tell you that there would be another way, another chance. But all you could think about was finishing what you started. That’s all you ever do. And that’s why I didn’t stick around three years ago. You don’t seem to get that now, just like you didn’t get it then. And I’ve tried to be civil about it, I’ve tried to help you and your brother out the way hunters help each other. But you don’t ever seem to help me. You just help yourself. So please, Dean, unless you’re going to be a part of the solution instead of the problem, don’t apologize to me.”  
That seemed to hit a nerve in Dean. “I don’t ever help you? I don’t help you? So me saving your life from that vampire that stabbed you because you were too unobservant to realize you didn’t kill them all wasn’t helping? Giving you a place to stay while you healed? Making sure you got home safely when you went out and got drunk at a bar? Or what about when I got a call from Bobby just a couple weeks ago and found you sitting crying in a motel shower, and invited you into one of the only homes I ever had? None of that was to help you, that was all to help me, right?”  
“You do not want me to go there, Dean,” you said, trying to maintain your calmness.   
“No, go there. By all means. Please, enlighten me, really.” Dean’s voice was almost a shout.   
“You only did half of that shit because you wanted to sleep with me.” You tried to speak in a low enough voice so that Sam wouldn’t hear you.   
But Dean ruined any hopes you had of keeping your secret with what he yelled next. “I didn’t sleep with you because I wanted to take advantage of you, [Y/N]! I slept with you because I thought I was in love with you!”  
It almost physically stung you to hear it. “Go. Just go. We’ll talk about this later. Right now I need you to just go. Please,” you said quietly before shutting the door and locking it.   
Sam didn’t speak up until he had heard Dean walk away. “So you slept with Dean?” he asked, much calmer than you thought he would’ve been.   
“It was over three years ago. I was drunk, and really pissed. And I know I should’ve said something. So… I won’t apologize because I know you don’t want to hear it.”  
Sam nodded. “I get why you didn’t say anything.” Your face became confused. “You wanted to wait till the right time,” Sam answered your unspoken question. “And while you were in bed with me wasn’t a good time.”  
“That was what the demon was talking about back there. The thing that happened between me and Dean. It’s… trying to figure out when and how to tell you had been killing me, Sam. I didn’t want you to think any less of me…”  
“[Y/N], I don’t think any less of you. I promise you that. But… I think that this should stop until you can talk to Dean.”  
“Sam, please-”  
“You two need to figure things out. Establish boundaries, come to an agreement about things. It’s only fair.”  
You nodded sadly. “Okay,” you croaked. Sam came over to kiss you one last time before he left you alone in your room.


	7. In and Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You struggle to manage your feelings for Sam while being respectful of Dean's feelings for you, although his are far more complicated feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to post a new chapter! Hope you like it!!

If you didn't talk to Dean now, you probably never would. You were too frustrated, too confused. You left your room and went to Dean’s, knocking on his door. He almost immediately answered, opening the door and inviting you in. “I’m sorry for what I said about you,” you told Dean. “But I'm not going to accept your apology for what happened back in the dungeon.”  
“I can respect that.” Dean nodded. Silence. For a good few minutes. “I meant what I said,” he finally added.  
“When? About what?” You never knew what he meant anymore.  
“Back there. About how I thought I was in love with you three years ago.”  
You snickered. “You were never in love with me. You let me stay with you for two weeks, we went on a hunt, that was it,” you told him.  
“Not to me. It meant more to me than it did to you. Before you even went to that bar.”  
“How? Dean, it was two weeks,” you argued.  
“Yeah, and in those two weeks I took care of you. And I didn't feel so alone, for once in my life. Especially after I had lost my brother,” he retorted.  
“So just because you took care of me for two weeks made you fall in love with me?” you asked.  
“No, [Y/N], that's not the point. When I took care of you, I got to see the person you really were. The person outside of hunting. The person you'd be if none of this crap existed. And seeing that made me want to get out. I thought I was in love with you because I was in love with the idea of a normal world.”  
“Yeah, well, we don't live in a normal world. And we can't get out of this life,” you muttered.  
“I know that.”  
“Dean, you're not in love with me,” you said sternly. He didn't say anything. “Dean.”  
“I don't know how I feel about you, okay? I don't even know if I'm capable of love, honestly. Not that kind, at least. But there is something about you,” he said.  
“No there's not, Dean. So just get it out of your head. You're not in love with me, okay?” You had to convince him of at least that. Otherwise you wouldn't be able to set any boundaries.  
“[Y/N]-”  
“No. Just stop. We are nothing but colleagues. Friends, at the very most. Got it?” You didn't know if you should even mention Sam. Would knowing make him angrier? You were met with more silence again. “Dean!” you tried to grab his attention by raising your voice. “Friends. No benefits, no sappy emotions. Just friends. I need you to understand that.”  
“I understand the concept, I just don't understand why,” he said.  
Now you were silent. You could've made any excuse you wanted. Instead what came out of your mouth was the truth. “I think I like Sam.”  
His face was more confused than anything. “You _like_ Sam? What does that even mean?” You could tell he was playing dumb more to protect himself.  
“Romantically,” you said. “As in I'm interested in potentially being in a relationship with him.”  
Now there was anger. “If he’ll have you,” Dean spat, as if it were implausible.  
“Actually, Dean, he's interested in me too. Sorry that's hard for you to believe,” you snapped back.  
“What, so you're gonna fuck me then fuck my brother, is that your angle?” Okay, now he was too angry. So angry he was saying things he didn't mean.  
“Dean, that's not what it's about. The night we spent together was a mistake that never should've been made and you know that.”  
“No, how _do_ I know that?” Dean questioned.  
“Because I was drunk!” you yelled. “We were drunk! Neither of us could give consent, Dean! And you think that's okay?! You think that's a good way to start a relationship?! Because I don't. So get over it and stay out of my business.” You stormed out, leaving Dean to think about what you had just said.  
Now you just had to decide how much time to give Sam. How much time to give yourself. Was it a good idea to just walk right on into his room and act like nothing happened? Would he even let you? Even so, you didn't want to make the mistake of moving too quickly. You didn't want him to feel like Dean, and you didn't want you to feel like he was Dean.  
~~~  
You were at the bunker waiting for the boys. They wouldn't let you come with them while Dean redid the first trial, and you agreed that it was probably for the best. Not because they were worried anything bad would happen to you, but because it was personal for them, and you respected that. And even after three months, things were still awkward with all three of you in the same place at the same time- so you stayed behind. For the best.  
But as soon as they walked through that door, Dean looked exhausted. You tried not to worry, that is, until Dean stumbled and fell down the stairs. “Dean!” you shouted, flying out of your chair in the library and running over to the bottom of the stairs. Sam panicked almost as fast as you did, but was careful not to fall himself.  
“I'm fine,” Dean grunted through his teeth.  
“No you're not!” you yelled at him. “Don't even try that shit with me,” you muttered as you and Sam lifted him up and carried him to his room. “I take it it worked?” you asked as you helped lay Dean down in bed.  
“Yeah, it worked,” Sam said.  
“Guys, I'm fine. Just get out and let me go to sleep,” Dean told you.  
“You're not fine,” you and Sam said sternly at the same time.  
“Then let me get some rest. It's not like the two of you aren't gonna talk about me anyway,” Dean argued.  
“Fine,” Sam replied, and walked out the door.  
“Dean, what happened?” you asked. “Why is Sam so mad at you?”  
“Because I won't stop doing the trials, what do you think?” Dean sassed. “Stop acting like you care and run to your new boyfriend.”  
“Why don't you stop acting like a child because I'm not involved with him?” you retorted. “We're not five. Even if I was in a relationship with him you'd need to get the fuck over it because I honestly don't understand why you're upset anymore. You don't like me like that.”  
“It's not all about you. Just leave,” Dean said, kicking you out this time.  
You met Sam back in the kitchen. “He hates me,” you said, sitting at the breakfast table with him.  
“You're not the only one. It's just the way the trials are making him. Especially since this is the second round,” Sam replied.  
“Are you sure it's not my fault?” After a short pause you said, “I know it's not all about me, I just… I can't help but feel some kind of resentment from him towards me.”  
Sam sighed and placed his hands on the table in front of you, and you instinctively reached to hold them. “It's not you. I promise.” He looked into your eyes. “If it were, he'd confront me about it. Trust me.”  
“Wait… how do you know I told him I liked you?” you asked hesitantly.  
“Because he told me to stop wasting my time beating around the bush with you just because you guys had drunk sex three years ago. He said you’re an amazing woman and he'd be glad to see us together.”  
“You're bullshitting me,” you said, and Sam smiled. “He didn't say that.”  
“You can ask him yourself if you don't believe me. Or maybe you don't believe me because I left out the part where he told me to hit that.” Sam winked.  
You couldn't help yourself from laughing at that, pulling your hands away gently. “Did he really?” you asked once your giggles had subsided. Sam nodded and stood up, walking around to your side of the table. “Sam…” you started before you realized you didn't know what you wanted to say.  
“Come on. I want to take you out. Dean’s asleep anyways.” He held out his hand to help you up.  
“Where are we going?” you asked.  
“Somewhere we don’t have to talk about Dean,” Sam told you. “I know it sounds horrible, but I’ve worried about him enough today. Anything else at this point is unproductive.”  
Once you got up, Sam took you out to the garage, where he had caught you daydreaming about the oldies cars. “You're not gonna make fun of me, are you?” you asked suspiciously.  
Sam chuckled. “No. No, Dean and I made our own little drive-in. Come on, I'll show you.” Sam went to turn on a projector and the two of you sat in the Impala.  
“No offense, but the Impala’s not as nice as some of these other beauts,” you said. Sam wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him as the movie began. “So what are we watching?” you asked.  
“Shh. You’ll see,” Sam playfully whispered.  
“Saaaam,” you whined, turning to face him. After a few seconds he turned to look back at you, and you couldn’t help yourself. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his, placing your hand on his chest. What started as a soft kiss quickly became a makeout session, and you had no clue what movie was playing because you weren’t paying a lick of attention. After allowing Sam to introduce tongue, you reached up and threaded your fingers through Sam’s hair. He, in turn, wrapped his free arm around your waist and squeezed your hip, eliciting a moan from you. “You tryin’ to get me into bed?” you murmured through the kiss.  
“Not if you don’t want to,” he murmured back, kissing down your neck.  
“I just don’t want to move to fast,” you whispered.  
He pulled back. “[Y/N], it’s been over three months, I think we’re allowed to start an official relationship.”  
“I know… I know, I’m just… worried about making the same mistake twice,” you admitted.  
Sam cupped your face in his hand. “Are you really still comparing me to Dean?” He didn’t sound angry, more concerned than anything.  
“I didn’t mean it that way. I know that you’re nothing like him. I know you and I met under different, although similar circumstances. I also know that we didn’t have drunk sex that first night we hung out at the bar together. And we’ve hung out almost every day, whether it’s hunting or something a little more enjoyable. I know it’s been over three months Sam, and that we’re allowed to start our relationship. I just… I worry. I worry it might not be real, or that it’ll all get ruined…”  
“You think Lido’s still in your head,” Sam concludes for you.  
“Not quite. I just have a bad feeling about everything that went down. It was too easy.”  
“Hey, let’s not worry about that,” Sam tells you, kissing your forehead. “If something comes back up, I’ll be with you to the end. I’m not letting you go that easy. Not like Dean did three years ago.”  
You smiled, a tear falling from the corner of your eye. “Okay,” you whispered before kissing Sam again.  
Once you had fooled around long enough that it was clear you wanted to have sex, and after pondering just doing it in Baby, the two of you made your way to Sam’s bedroom. As soon as the door was shut, you yanked Sam’s shirt off, finally getting to see his torso in its unbloodied, uninjured glory. After that you were quick to undress each other on the way to the bed.  
“Wait, I wanna take my time with you,” Sam said breathlessly once he was on top of you. He kissed down your neck, your collarbone, sternum, abdomen. “Wanna make love to you,” he whispered before dipping his head between your thighs and lapping at your pussy.  
“Oh, _Sam_ ,” you moaned, reaching up to hold onto the headboard, your other hand tangled in his hair. He ate you out slowly, drawing it out and teasing you as long as he could. The buildup became almost too much, and you felt like you were about to explode. “Sam, baby, get up here and make love to me,” you whined, pulling his hair.  
He smiled devilishly and crawled back up the bed, lining himself up with you. “But I didn't even get to make you come with my mouth,” he teased as you kissed him roughly.  
“You can do that later, right now I just want to feel you inside of me,” you said through the kiss. You almost immediately felt him pressing against your entrance, silently asking for permission even though you had already given it to him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him inside of you, gasping at the sensation. Sam let out a grunt before slowly moving in and out of you. “You tryin’ to take control baby?” Sam asked as you thrust your hips up to meet his.  
“When I'm not drunk I like to be an active participant in the bedroom,” you said seductively, rolling the two of you over so that you were on top.  
Sam smiled and squeezed your hips, holding onto you as you rode him. “I like it.” You leaned down and bit Sam’s lip, slowly increasing the pace of your thrusts. He wrapped his arms around you and held you against him. “Lemme do the work now baby,” he murmured. His embrace made it hard for you to keep doing what you had been doing, so you just let yourself relax against him as he brought himself in and out of you over and over, as deep as he could.  
“Oh, Sam, I'm gonna…” you felt your orgasm build up inside you for what felt like forever. He pulled himself almost all the way out just to slam back into you one last time, enough to pull your orgasm out of you. He worked you through it, and once you came down from your high it was only a couple more thrusts until he came inside of you. Sam pulled out and relaxed on top of you, chuckling. “What?” you asked.  
“Hope you're on birth control.”  
You shook your head.


	8. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers discover many new things about you, although they thought they had known everything there was to know. Sam makes you more upset than you thought even possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like this one! Please comment!!!

Sam pushed himself up onto his elbows, alert. “Wait, what? [Y/N], why would you let me do that? God, I'm so stupid!” Sam said.  
You placed your hand on his cheek. “Sam… can we save this conversation for another time? You don't need to worry about me getting pregnant, okay? I just don't like talking about it.” As soon as you told him, Sam knew. You couldn't have kids. Sam nodded sadly, and you knew he wanted to talk about it. “Look, I'm sorry I didn't say anything about protection at all, but I honestly just wasn't even thinking and I-”  
Sam interrupted you. “It's okay. I just want you to know that whenever you're ready to talk about it with me, I'm here for you.”  
You nodded and wrapped your arms around Sam, pulling him against you in a tight hug. “I'm sorry,” you whimpered into his neck.  
“Shhh, it's okay,” he murmured back to you, kissing your collarbone. “Let's take a shower and go to bed.”  
You nodded. “Can I stay in here with you?” you asked.  
“Well, I didn't think you'd be sleeping by yourself,” he teased.  
You snickered and shoved his chest. “Okay, fine, stupid question,” you said.  
~~~  
“So who do you guys want to send to Heaven?” you asked as the three of you stood in Kevin’s safeboat. The second trial had been translated, and Dean had to deliver an innocent soul in Hell unto Heaven.  
Dean and Sam looked at each other. “We already took Bobby. Everyone else we could would be impossible to get to. Dad, Adam…” Sam trailed off.  
Dean spoke up, “It has to be someone I could find, some random sucker that sold their soul, someone they wouldn't expect me to pick up. I've already been there once, I have to be careful this time. For all we know, Crowley’s got Hell on full lockdown.”  
“But how do we know they're innocent if they're just some random sucker that sold their soul?” Sam asked.  
“[Y/N],” Kevin said.  
You hadn't been paying much attention, and when you looked up, the boys were all staring at you. “What?” you asked.  
“You've gotta know someone innocent downstairs,” Kevin replied.  
You froze, and a wave of memory crashed against you, making you collapse onto your knees. All you heard was ringing and you couldn't see what was going on around you, sunspots blocking your vision.  
To Sam, Dean, and Kevin, you just kept mumbling, “Peter, Pete, P...Peter…. Peter, Pete…”  
The men all rushed over to you, Sam crouching down on your level to hold you up. He looked up at Kevin. “Who's Peter?” he asked.  
“Her son,” Kevin murmured.  
~~~  
_You held your two year old against your chest as you sat on the floor of your closet, hidden behind coats and piles of shoes and old holiday wrapping paper. But you were sure there was no hiding from this invisible monster, whatever the hell it was. Peter began to whimper. “Shhh, honey it's okay. Shhh,” you whispered to him, running your fingers through his thin hair. You could hear the snarling outside, and the sound of an animal’s footsteps ceased. You braced yourself, wrapping your arms tightly around Peter and squeezing your eyes shut. Then it all happened so quickly. The invisible monster busting through the door, ripping baby Peter from your grip and throwing him behind itself. When it had quieted you thought it had gotten what it wanted- until you felt it tear through your abdomen. You cried out in pain and lost all feeling below the belt. Right before blacking out, you heard Peter’s screams until finally they faded away. The invisible monster had silenced him, and left you alone to die._  
~~~  
You woke up in your bed in the bunker. When you turned your head, you saw Dean sitting at your desk. “What happened?” you asked, catching his attention.  
“[Y/N]... you… you had a panic attack… presumably from PTSD you developed after your son died,” he told you.  
Your heartbeat picked up. “How do you know about my son? Does Sam know?”  
“You kept mumbling his name when you blacked out, [Y/N],” Dean said. “Kevin told us he was your son. He got a vision of what happened to you… [Y/N] I'm so sorry… I wish I had known…”  
“Don't. We don't talk about it. Not now, not ever. Do you understand?” you said sternly, trying to purge the memory.  
Dean nodded. “Okay. I'll go get Sam.” He stood weakly and left, Sam returning in his place a few minutes later.  
Sam stood near the doorway, daring not come any closer. It looked like he was about to cry, like he had lost a son too. “Was it Dean’s?” he asked.  
You paused. How dare he. “ _What_?” you spat. “After what just happened… all you have to ask me is if _he_ was Dean’s?”  
“Kevin couldn't tell us when it happened, only that it did,” Sam replied. “Dean wants to know, too. I take it you didn't use protection with him, either.” But as soon as he said it, he knew he fucked up.  
“Fuck you, Sam!” you yelled. “I thought I could trust you! I fucking thought I was in love with you! And all you have to fucking say to me is some snapback about me sleeping with Dean three years ago when we were _both_ drunk?!” By the end of your rant, tears were streaming down your face.  
All of the guilt immediately hit Sam at once, and he ran to your bedside. “Baby, I-”  
“Don't you ‘baby’ me! Get out!” you cried.  
Sam gently placed a hand on your cheek. “I didn't mean it that way, love. Please, please don't cry,” he murmured.  
You swatted his hand away. “I said get out!” you screamed. You saw Sam’s heart break. He recoiled, physically hurt. He slowly stood up and trudged out.  
You cried for about another twenty minutes before you heard a knock on the doorframe and Dean came in. “He wasn't mine,” he said as he sat on the bed next to you. “He happened long before I came along, didn't he?” Dean looked over at you and brushed your hair out of your face.  
You turned your head to face him and nodded. “I had him when I was 21. The Hellhound came for us when I was 23. I met you when I was 25. My uterus was too damaged for even the angel that found me to heal. At least, mostly. That's why I don't have any scars. And it's why I can't have kids.”  
Dean nodded. After a few minutes of silence, he said, “I'll save Peter.”  
You leaned over and kissed Dean, placing your hand on the nape of his neck. Every single one of Dean’s instincts told him not to kiss you back, but he couldn't help himself. He wrapped his arm around your waist and rolled on top of you, grinding himself against you. You felt his hard dick pressing into you through your clothes, and god it felt good. But not as good as Sam. You pushed Dean off of you. “I can't, Dean. Not again. I can't do this to you and I can't do this to Sam. He may have pissed me off like hell just now, but I… I still don't want to lose him. And I can't keep giving you these signals that I want you when I don't. Not the way I want Sam.” You got up out of bed and jogged to Sam’s room, leaving Dean frustrated and self-loathing in your bed. He hated himself for being attracted to you the way he was.  
You banged on Sam’s door. “Sam, it's me,” you said. You didn't even have to ask him to open up, as you'd anticipated. The door immediately opened and you threw yourself into Sam’s arms. “I'm sorry,” you whined into his neck. “I love you. I love you even though you have royally pissed me off, I love you,” you rambled. “The hellhound attacked us two years before I ever even met Dean, and it's why I can't have kids, okay? That's everything, I swear. I just want you and only you and I'll never ever give you any more reasons to think otherwise.”  
Sam hesitantly hugged you back. “It's okay. I messed up and I said some things I shouldn't have said.” You looked up at him and saw his worrisome eyes. “I'm in love with you,” he said. “And I'm not letting you go just because I said some stupid shit when I let my brother get into my head….”  
You knew there was a but coming. “But?” you asked.  
Sam sighed. “But I think it's best that you stay away from here. At least until Dean is done with the trials. I don't think you should be around both of us, not with this kind of shit going on. It's just too much. Go hunt something, stay with Kevin, anything. Just don't be here. Don't watch Dean kill himself. Don't watch me fall apart. I want you, all to myself, no distractions. The only way that can be is when this is all over.”  
“Sam, please don't push me away like this…” you argued. “I'm a hunter too, I can handle this. I've been doing this shit almost as long as you. And I'm not leaving.”  
“[Y/N], I'm not letting you stay,” he said firmly. “Please don't argue with me.”  
And after six hours of arguing about it, and you not caving in one bit, Sam and Dean had called for the help of an angel friend, Castiel. You'd heard things about him, and briefly encountered him at the bunker from time to time, but weren't very acquainted with him. All it took for him to sedate you while the Winchesters packed your belongings was two fingers to the forehead and you were out.  
The next thing you knew, you were in a brand new house in a brand new neighborhood. Thank god you hadn't lost your memories of the brothers- you knew what angels were capable of with just a tap on the head. You sat up on a couch in the living room of the house, and turned your head to see Castiel watching over you. “So I'm just trapped here now until Sam comes to get me, is that it?” you spat.  
“This is more for Sam and Dean’s sakes, than yours, [Y/N]. Don't take it personal. This is something that they must do on their own. They don't want any risk of distraction ruining their chance at closing the gates of Hell,” Castiel told you in that gravelly voice of his.  
You suddenly realized that none of this had to do with how stubborn you were or how much you wanted to help. You had come into their lives at a bad time. Although the Winchesters wanted to help you and take care of you, they really didn't have the time or attention or proper safety net. “So are you going to be babysitting me for the next few weeks?” you asked, submitting to the fact that you couldn't go back to them.  
“No need. I've erased the location of the bunker from your memory and engraved enochian symbols into your rib cage to hide you from any angel, demon, or witch that may come looking for you. So don't go looking for trouble,” Castiel said.  
“So no hunting?” you asked.  
“Hunt anything you want other than the supernatural beings I've just mentioned. Don't call Sam or Dean.”  
You nodded and bit your tongue in your mouth. “Okay Castiel.”


	9. Getting Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets to you, but can you get back to Sam?

It had been two weeks since Sam and Dean forced you to leave. You continued to hunt, just like Castiel said you could. You took down some small cases in towns that were 500 miles away or less. You tried to stay home if you weren't doing a case, but naturally you went out to a bar every once in a while. “I wouldn't typically consider scotch very ladylike,” a low raspy British voice spoke.   
You turned your head and saw a man that was small in stature but with a decent build, short graying hair and stubble that was on the verge of being just a beard. He was handsome, but age hadn't done him much. “I live a hard life,” you replied, taking another sip.  
“Oh I don't doubt it.”  
“What's that supposed to mean?” you asked suspiciously.   
“It means I’m about to make it this much harder.” The man snapped his fingers and suddenly you were back at the house.  
You stood across from each other in the living room. “Demon,” you said. Then you began to choke. He was going to make you choke on your own blood.   
“Not just any demon,” he said as he pulled out a cell phone. “I'm the King of Hell.”   
He dialed and suddenly you heard Sam’s voice. “What do you want Crowley?” Sam spat.   
“Well, I've got you and Squirrel’s little girlfriend here choking on her own blood until you arrive,” Crowley said deviously.   
“He's lying,” Dean’s gruff voice spoke up.   
“No I'm not,” Crowley taunted and held the phone closer to your mouth so the boys could hear you choking and gasping for air.  
“We’re six hours away, how are we supposed to get there before you choke her to death?” Dean sassed.   
“Why don't you get your little angel friend to drop you off?” Crowley retorted with just as much attitude. No response from the boys. “You have fifteen minutes before she dies,” Crowley said before hanging up.  
He snapped his fingers again and suddenly the pain was gone and you could breathe. “They're not going to come,” you said. “Your little demon Lido already tried this. They're not stopping the trials again. Especially not for me.”  
“Doesn't matter. If you're lying I win. If you're not… well, just one less hunter to worry about.”   
With Crowley’s comment, you lost all sense of will. If they didn't come, you'd die at his hands, and that would be okay. If they did come, it would only be to handle the situation and then leave until the trials were finished. “Fuck you,” you spat.   
Ten minutes passed before Crowley got suspicious. “Alright boys, come on out. No point in trying to catch me by surprise,” he called. Sam appeared from the hall behind you and relaxed his gun in his hand. “And Squirrel?”   
“Dying at the bunker.”  
“Don't lie to me, moose.”  
After a few moments, Dean came inside from the back door of the house. Oh god, he looked awful. And at the snap of Crowley’s fingers, you and Sam were knocked to the ground, and you were coughing up blood again. “Let her go and we’ll give you what you want,” Sam said in a strained voice.  
“Funny, that's not what [Y/N] here seems to think,” Crowley tells him.   
You suffered in pain while Sam and Dean tried to pick a fight with Crowley, which distracted him enough for Castiel to swoop in unsuspected.  
There's a puddle of your blood on the floor, but Crowley was in demon proof cuffs in the trunk of the impala. Sam returned from outside by the car, and lifted you off the floor. You let him help enough to get you standing before pulling away from him. “Don't touch me. Just leave,” you said bitterly.   
“[Y/N]...” Sam replied.   
“I don't want to hear it. I understand why you sent me away. I just don't agree with how you did it. So, go. Save the world. Then come back to me and we can forget about it. Okay?” you asked.  
Sam knew it was better to just leave the issue alone. At least for now, although he might regret it later. So he leaned down, pulled your head to his lips to give you a kiss on the forehead, then walked out the door, closing the door behind him.  
You went to the kitchen and grabbed a rag and a bowl of water to clean up the blood stains on the hardwood.   
~~~  
Days passed. Then the days became weeks. Then the weeks became months. You figured you might as well give up on waiting for Sam. By now, you knew Dean had to be long gone. You quietly mourned to yourself, not knowing when or how everything must've gone down. But you knew. Part of what gave it away was Castiel’s absence. If it had been this long and they hadn't been able to finish the trials he'd still be checking on you to make sure you didn't try to find a way back.   
You thought about the Winchesters every day, wondering, mourning. But never on a hunt- no, it would distract you just like you were evidently distracting them. Something, sadness maybe, got the better of you. Today had just been that day that you accepted Sam would never come back. That he must've been too devastated after Dean died to even want to.   
You were so dissociative that you didn't even remember how you got here. Outside of an abandoned warehouse. You were leaving your hunt when you heard the familiar rumble of the impala. When you looked up, there it was. And there was Sam. He got out of the car and you immediately ran into his arms, almost knocking off his balance. “I thought you'd never come,” you murmured.   
He rubbed your back and held you tight. “Well, I'm here now. Let's go home.”  
The car ride home was quiet. You held Sam’s hand, your fingers intertwined, but there were no words. You thought that since it had been this long there wouldn't have to be. He took his time, now he was finally here with you. The gates of Hell were shut, and at the very least you no longer had to worry about demons. Maybe it would be enough to let you live a normal life. But was that what you wanted?  
When you got home, it was all teeth and tongues and skin. As soon as the door shut, Sam was on you like a leech. But you were just as pent up as he was, so you tore his clothes off as much as he did yours. He lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist once you were both stripped down and pressed you against the wall, allowing you to feel his painfully hard dick against you. “Sam,” you breathed. “Just fuck me.”  
That was all it took, and he pushed his full length into you. You gasped at the sensation, Sam stretching you in all the right ways. Then he started moving. You clawed at his shoulders when you got close, and he grabbed your wrists and held them over your head, and two more thrusts and you were gone. If Sam hadn't been holding you up, you'd be on the floor. Your body went shaky and limp, and after a few more thrusts, Sam came too. He went limp against you for a moment, pinning your body to the wall with his, but shortly pulled out and carried you bridal style into your bedroom. With how exhausted you both were, you immediately fell asleep upon hitting the bed.   
The next morning, you woke up alone in bed, and you almost thought everything that happened last night with Sam had just been a dream. Then you heard the shower running, and got up to go to the bathroom. “Sam?” you called.   
“Just showering, you can come in if you want,” he replied.   
You opened the door and thought, _Hell I've got this far._ You stepped into the shower with Sam. “Hey,” you said.  
He turned to face you and held you in his arms, smiling. “Hey.”  
“So… last night…”  
“Was amazing. And I'm sorry I pushed you away-”   
“Let's not talk about that part. Can we just… be together? Be happy? No distractions? No hunting?” you asked.  
Sam’s face softened. “Hell yes.”  
There was no sex. Just intimacy as Sam washed your body and hair. He gently massaged every part of you he touched. After a while of just standing in the shower rinsing off, Sam turned the water off and you both got out to dry off.   
You were eating breakfast when Sam spoke up. “Dean wants to know if we can have dinner tomorrow night.”   
What… okay, Sam had to be going crazy. Something happened in those months he was gone and he went off the deep end. “Sam… what are you talking about?” you asked.   
He looked up at you. “Dean… my brother… are you okay, sweetie?” he asked.   
“Me?” you replied. “Am I okay? You're the one that thinks his dead brother wants to have dinner tomorrow night!”   
“[Y/N], what are you talking about? Why would Dean be dead?” he asked, dumbfounded. Okay, he really wasn't playing around.   
“Because he did the trials! God’s trials?! To shut the gates of Hell?!” _Shit. Am I the one going crazy?_ “Never mind,” you said, getting up and going outside. When you stepped out of the house, you felt something knock you to your knees. You landed on your hands and knees and when you looked down at your wrists there were rope burns. “What the…”  
~~~  
“[Y/N]!” Sam yelled desperately. He was a mess. His hair was thin, his eyes were hollowed, his jawline somewhat sunken. He had already lost Dean and he couldn't lose you too. Not now. He had finally built up the courage to come back to you. He slapped your face gently at first. But with his fear that you were already dead growing, he slapped you harder. “Wake up!” he cooed. “Come on, wake up,” he said, more softly now. With still no response, he pulled out the needle draining you of your blood and cut you down from the ropes you were in. Sam laid you down on the cold wet ground of the abandoned warehouse and cradled your face in his hands. “I'm sorry, [Y/N], this is all my fault. I should've been with you a long time ago.”   
~~~  
Then nothing was wrong. Your wrists were normal, you felt fine although you were on the ground. You pushed yourself to your feet and went back inside. “Sam… why'd you leave me?” you asked.   
“You know why...” Sam began.  
“I know, just tell me,” you argued.  
“Because… you said I wasn't going to be a good influence on Peter and you wanted me to get out. Because of the… the demon blood…” _What the fuck? Peter? Demon blood?_  
“Sam, you don't even know Peter,” you said, choking back tears. “Sam, Peter’s dead. He has been for five years…”  
“Why do you think everyone is dead? No, [Y/N]. Peter is eight. He's out with Dean for the day right now. Remember?”  
“Sam, what you're saying isn't making any sense!” you said.   
“I'm taking you to see a doctor,” Sam stood and took your hand.   
You pulled away. “This isn't real,” you whispered, shaking your head. “You're not real.”  
Sam tried to recover you. “Baby, I'm real. Last night felt real to you, didn't it?”   
“No, no, no, this isn't right.” But you wanted to stay. You so desperately wanted to stay because this was a world where Dean was alive and Peter was alive and Sam was all yours and everything was perfect.   
“Are you saying I’m not right?” Sam asked, and you melted. You knew he wasn’t real but you wished he was. You still felt like leaving this Sam was wrong.   
_No Sam you’re not wrong, you're perfect_ , you thought. “No, Sam, _this_ isn’t right… wait, why did you come back?”  
“Because I wasn’t just going to give up,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of know how this is going to make you guys feel, but I thought it was the best way for me to end the story.  
> ~Rae

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's been a while but I just got this idea and I couldn't stop myself from writing it so here it is.


End file.
